Avenging Achilles
by tryhonesty
Summary: Banned for bearing the child of Achilles, Briseis remains on the beaches of Troy. Her only son Achayus made a vow to the gods that he would have revenge upon those who caused his mother pain. Can he stick to this vow when the opportunity arises?R&R CHP5
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: Achayus and Petra are mine and mine alone. Haitus is my own name and island.  
  
Prologue: The Falling of Troy and so much more  
  
The boat rocked gently in the dark water as Briseis stared into its murky depths. Several men were rowing to Paris' whispers. She was between the two Princesses of Troy, Helen and Andromanche, on a ship with her people on her way to salvation, but all she felt was alone. As she wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders, she couldn't help but compare it to the weight of Achilles hands on her when they slept. The mere thought of it brought a sheen of tears to her eyes. She wiped it away quickly in fear of being questioned. She bowed her head and drew the blanket tighter around her. Achilles final moments flashed in front of her eyelids.  
  
His sardonic smile, his acceptance of what was happening, his confession of love. The last was something Briseis was sure she'd imagined. A son of war admitting to love. She knew she looked like something Hades had spit back out, her kohl streaming down her face in dry rivulets, her dark hair tangled and her face puffy from crying. She still felt where Achilles had held her face, his eyes filling with tears as he told her of how in the midst of a war she had shown him peace.  
  
She couldn't stop them now. The tears were falling freely. Her body shook lightly as she held her sobs inside. She looked up into the inquisitive and curious gaze of her cousin Paris. It held an accusatory feeling and Briseis immediately blinked and congested her emotion.  
  
Helen turned to her and gripped her hand.  
  
"I know too, the pain of losing a home. But we have Paris and the gods protecting us now. You must believe that." She said soothingly. Briseis nodded, Achilles protected me, she thought. He protected me when the gods would not. I believe in no gods, she continued.  
  
Helen smiled and turned her gaze forward. Briseis let hers too fall into the open vastness that was the dark of the night. As she watched, a small dot arrived on the horizon and she soon realized that this was to be their new home. An isle named Haitus.  
  
Soon after she first caught sight of the island, they docked on the beach. The men jumped out, well all except Paris of course, and pushed the boat ashore. Then, they all assisted the women onto the soft sand of the beach. The white sand was bright and clear under the hazy moon above them in the night.  
  
Helen, Andromanche and her child and Paris collected enough blankets for the three of them and plotted a small area for sleeping quarters. Paris stationed men as guards in front and behind them, making a wall of men to protect them. Briseis stood off from the crowd, still wrapped in her blanket. The men and women were all grabbing blankets and plotting their own spaces for sleeping. Seeing all these people bed down made Briseis realize how exhausted she herself was.  
  
She squat on the soft sand and pulled the blanket up high around her shoulders so she could lie down without worrying about sand crabs in her hair. It was now, in the silence of the night, in between the dull murmurs of the others that she let herself be swept away in all that happened. She cried thick tears into her hair. She cried because her lover died, she cried because she lost her faith, she cried because she lost her home. It all compiled into one and she let it come until she was fast asleep, curled in a ball rolled in a blanket.  
  
She would never be able to recall if it was a dream, or a message from the gods, but that night, on the beach, Achilles came to her. She lay still as she felt the familiar heavy hand on her thigh. She closed her eyes tightly, envisioning some sick guard standing over her with lust in his face. Taking a deep breath, she threw the blanket aside and grabbed at the hand on her thigh. She was startled to find herself gripping a hand that seemed all too familiar.  
  
She followed the line of the arm to the face of her mysterious hand. She gasped lightly when she was staring into the clear blue eyes of Achilles. He sat on his knees in the pale sand, his eyes slightly more watery then when she last saw him. Her startled reaction turned to confusion quickly.  
  
"What in the gods? How?" she whispered. "You died, I watched you. You were killed." She felt her throat tightening as she said the words.  
  
"I have. Your tears have called me. The gods are allowing me only a moment and then I must retreat to Hades, please my love. Do no cry for me." He smiled bitterly wiping a tear off her cheek. She bit her lip.  
  
"I cannot believe it. You cannot be real. I must have gone mad." She muttered looking away.  
  
"Do I not feel real to you? Touch me, I am as solid as I was when you knew me." Achilles said taking her hand and pressing it to his cheek. Briseis felt herself breaking down into sobs.  
  
She covered her face with her hands and fell into the curve of her lovers' arms. He certainly felt like flesh.  
  
"Oh Achilles," she cried. "I do not know how I will manage, without you I fear I am nothing."  
  
She felt his hand slowly run through her hair, smoothing it against her head. He slowly rocked her back and forth gently, like a babe.  
  
"But you will not be alone." He murmured with his eyes closed and his face buried in her hair. "You will not be alone." He repeated.  
  
"How can you know? You are gone, Paris has Helen, Andromanche has Hectors child, I am the one who is left. I have no one." Briseis whispered pulling out of the embrace, her fingers still entwined with Achilles.  
  
"But you have forgotten." He placed hand softly on her stomach. "You are a woman, and I a man. You will not be alone." He said his voice cracking slightly. Her eyes grew wide with realization.  
  
"You means to say?" her voice died on her lips. The look in his eyes told her it was truth. She put a hand over his on her stomach.  
  
"My time here has ended Briseis. Don't forget me." Achilles whispered, tears forming in his eyes. He clasped her hand and removed the necklace from around his neck. He wrapped her fingers around the earthy amulets.  
  
Briseis felt her own tears spring into her eyes and she nodded clutching them to her breast.  
  
"How could I forget the one who protected me when my own gods did not? How could I forget a man who showed me mercy during a time when mercy was not an option? How could I forget the man I love?" She leaned forward in hopes of catching a kiss, but it was if he was never there. She felt the tears swell and she did nothing to stop them now. Slumping her shoulders she wept as if tomorrow would never come.  
  
But as Apollo promises, the sun rose the next morn and Briseis woke to Paris standing over her.  
  
"What is this?" he said with an accusatory glare. He held a rawhide string that held a few pendants. Briseis recognized it as the gift Achilles left her last night, but if it was merely a dream, how did she still have it? She put a hand over her stomach, and realized it that it was more than just a vision.  
  
"Achilles." She said simply bowing her head. The bright sun burned her eyes. Paris squat in front of her.  
  
"Yes. Lets talk about dear old Achilles. Explain to me Briseis, why you were embracing the enemy at his time of death in such a way that I almost believed you to be lovers."  
  
Briseis turned away, she felt more tears welling. Paris took this as his answer.  
  
"So I see. My assumptions were correct. Tell me Briseis, what about you're godly vows? Your sanctimonious speeches about the gods? You broke a vow to the gods for what? The enemy of our city? Or home?" When she did not answer, he repeated the question louder. "For what!"  
  
Briseis looked her cousin in the eyes, tears shining.  
  
"He protected me when my gods would not. He saved me from Agamemnon, and the Greek soldiers. I owe him my life."  
  
"So protection is enough for him to bed you? Surely you must carry his seed then. Tell me Briseis, did you revel in the fact that he killed your cousin Hector, my brother? Killed him in cold blood and dragged his body through the dirt?"  
  
Briseis felt anger welling inside her mouth.  
  
"He was avenging his cousins death! Hector killed Patriclus. Patriclus was Achilles everything. He was simply evening the score. Hector accepted that! Hector respected that!"  
  
"It was war-" Paris began.  
  
"A war you started!" Briseis burst. Immediately she regretted it. The hurt on Paris' face nearly broke her heart. But you can't break what's already broken.  
  
"Briseis, just tell me. Why him? Why our enemies!"  
  
"Because he loved me. And I loved him."  
  
"He and his people are the reason that Troy has fallen!" Paris exclaimed. Briseis locked eyes with her cousin.  
  
"I do not blame the Greeks for the falling of Troy." She said spitefully.  
  
Paris fell silent.  
  
"And yes." She said proudly standing. Paris followed suit and stared down at her.  
  
She squared her shoulders and stared the prince of troy down. By now, Helen and Andromanche were watching from a distance, not to mention the rest of the surviving Trojans.  
  
"I carry the child of Achilles."  
  
She watched as the weight of her words took effect. Paris' eyes grew wide, as did Helens and Andromanche.  
  
"You will not keep it." Paris said coolly.  
  
"Since when were you so bold Prince Paris. If I do recall, you broke challenge to Menelaus. You have no rights over me." Briseis said neutrally.  
  
"Since I became the sole leader of Troy. Since my brother died at the hands of your lover and since I won the love of Helen. I am the king of Troy now. You are mine." Paris replied heatedly. "You will not keep it."  
  
"I will not give it up."  
  
A moment passed, and another, and another. Paris finally spat on the necklace and threw it at her feet in the sand. A glint of decision had passed his face.  
  
"Fine, since you refuse to accept Trojan law, I hereby send you to exile. You will board a boat headed back to the beach from whence we came. Perhaps you can find your lover there. GO NOW! Before I change my mind and return to proper law."  
  
For an instant Briseis felt weak. Feeling a wash of tears her breathing became ragged and she trembled as she bent and retrieved the gods given gift. She cleaned it of Paris' saliva on her own skirts. Then with a determined glare, she thrust the pendant over her head, adjusting it on her chest. It was long and fell just under her breasts.  
  
"Minalio, Tulio and Neyman, take the traitor here and row her back to Troy. Take her to the body of her love. Her love that means more than the love of her real family. I have washed my hands of her." Paris said finally. He turned and strode away from his cousin.  
  
The men approached Briseis and grabbed her wrists. She struggled as they led her to the boat. One of the men tufted her blanket into the boat while the other two tufted her. All three of them pushed the boat into the water. She watched as the shore floated farther away, she watched as Paris watched her. She clutched her belly that held her unborn child and knew she was making the right choice.  
  
Now she stood on the beaches of Troy, empty of any ship or soldier. The boat that brought her was quickly becoming one with the horizon line.  
  
Turning, she looked to find shelter, the sky was dark and showed promise of only rain. The gods were angered. Briseis could only guess why. Atop a sand dune, she saw the Apollo Temple. Running for it, she was glad for such a comfort in times like these.  
  
The stone steps felt familiar under her feet as she took refuge inside. Dead soldiers littered the hallway, blood stained walls. Over the next few months, that would change.  
  
Many things changed in the months to come. Each morning, Briseis removed a few bodies and cleaned the floor with seawater collected in the soldier's helmets. Eventually the temple was clean again. Her belly grew as the weeks went on, she began to venture into the decimation that was once Troy and collected what she could to make a proper home within the temple.  
  
And on one day, on one trip back from town, she doubled over in pain. She knew what was next.  
  
And so the son of Achilles was born. 


	2. 18 Years Later

A/N: Pronunciation guide: Achayus – A-Kay-Us & Phenelaos – Fen-Ayl-Oww-Us. Thanks to Chibi for the proper spelling of Andromache.  
  
A woman walked into the quiet marketplace of Phenelaos that the city of Troy had become. Sea merchants and seafaring ships took refuge on the beaches now instead of the majestic people of Troy. She looked around, hoping to catch a glint of her son's hair, dark like her own. Instead, she saw only the daily vendors and booths.  
  
"Achayus!" she called out over the hubbub. She gathered her pale green toga and lifted its skirts so she could maneuver the walkways without getting snagged.  
  
A hand on her shoulder made her tense. She turned quickly. Suddenly she was staring into the face of a man that looked vaguely memorable.  
  
"Briseis?" he asked cautiously.  
  
On her guard, she nodded slowly.  
  
"I am, and you would be?"  
  
"Odysseus, King Odysseus. I was a friend to Achilles."  
  
At the mention of her lovers' name, she tensed. The usual feeling of emptiness and aloneness filled her heart and she felt a chill to the bone. In light of her sudden nausea, she remembered her manners and bowed, her dark curls falling over one shoulder and her necklace of amulets fell out of her toga.  
  
"To what pleasure do I owe the audience of the King of Ithaca?" she asked innocently. He seemed to be genuine and sincere enough, but so did others.  
  
"I am on a journey home. I am traveling the seas with my wife and son. Since I saw you last, I have seen Circe, met Poseidon and ventured further than I ever thought possible. Might I add that you have never looked more beautiful? My men and I have stopped here in Phenelaos to collect some supplies. How are you doing?" Odysseus said, his eyes showed true concern. "I have heard from the gossiping seamstresses that you are mother to the only son of Achilles."  
  
"Please do not say his name." Briseis said weakly. "The rumors are true. Achayus is my son. I am searching for him now, I must go. Safe travels and may the gods be with you and your wife and son." She bowed low and turned quickly, looking left and right for her missing son.  
  
"Briseis," Odysseus called after her. She stopped and turned to look at him. "He loved you. Very much, I can attest to that. By the gods will or not, he would have taken you with him. He would have left his search of glory to be at your side. Know this."  
  
"I thank you King of Ithaca. Those words are kinder than most I hear these days. Now, I must find my son. It is very important. Cosseted travels."  
  
As she walked away, she felt sick to her stomach, and when she was sure that the king of Ithaca was not watching, she threw up in an empty barrel. Curse you Achilles. She thought. For the power you have over me still from death is greater than I would have ever thought. Now, tell me o' great warrior, where is your son?  
  
Meanwhile, Odysseus turned and stood for a moment and took in what Troy had become. A once majestic and holy city, reduced to a plain marketplace. His thoughts returned again to Briseis. 'Please, do not say his name.' She had asked. Was it simply the light, or had she gone pale. She wore a strange piece of jewelry, a leather rawhide strip with several amulets strung upon it. It looked vaguely similar to the once Achilles was buried with. But how could she have gotten it? He could swear he saw a haunted sorrowful look danced across her face. 'Tis a shame. He thought. That two so in love cannot be together.  
  
Turning to look for his men and rally them together, he caught a glimpse of a tall man. Dark hair hung to his shoulders, which were wide and muscular. He wondered why this man had caught his eye. The man turned his face in Odysseus' direction and the sheer identicalness struck him dumb for a moment. The man looked like the spitting image of Achilles. The only difference, was the hair.  
  
"Achayus! There you are! I have been searching high and low Phenelaos for you. The duels will begin this afternoon, are you coming?" a lean boy smiled widely embracing the man, well boy. Achayus, was that not the name of the child Briseis was searching for? Could this be him?  
  
"Aye Philamean. I will be. I am registered to fight, but do not tell my mother. She would have my hide. I do not understand why she detests my competing in the challenges." He said patting the other boy, Philamean, on the shoulder.  
  
Odysseus took this as his cue.  
  
"Perhaps young Achayus, she protests because she fears losing one more thing precious to her." He said, taking long strides, he was soon standing a step away from the boy.  
  
The boy squared his shoulders and locked his jaw.  
  
"And who would you be to assume my mothers mind?"  
  
Odysseus laughed.  
  
"Oh, you are identical to your father. I am King Odysseus of Ithaca. I know your mother and I knew your father. I must say, you look exactly like him, although the hair is most definitely your mothers."  
  
Philamean bowed low in shock. He returned up with wide eyes.  
  
"As in THE King Odysseus? The king who survived Poseidon's wrath? The one who battled the Cyclops, and made it out of Circe alive? Truly, you are joking."  
  
Odysseus drew his sword and held it up for the boy to see.  
  
"Truly, I am not. This sword has been passed down through the ages. It upholds all that is Ithaca. Much like the sword that was once the image of Troy, this sword is the image of my people. Achayus, might we talk for a moment?"  
  
Philameans' eyes still wide, bowed low again.  
  
"It has been a great honor King Odysseus." He said before turning to his friend.  
  
"I'll see you at the pits. You know that Pylar will be there. She will be waiting to see you conquer the ring again. I can be sure of that." Philamean bowed once more and strode off proudly.  
  
"You knew my father? Tell me about him. Who was he? My mother refuses." Achayus' gaze again returned to the man before him. The glint of smile in his eyes was replaced by a sudden curiosity.  
  
"Aye, I did." Odysseus assured. "But, lets talk out of public ear." He tipped his head to the side where two old woman were pretending to be conversing, but in all reality were eavesdropping.  
  
"Fine. You lead the way." Achayus said uncertainly. This man knew Achilles? Knew his father? His own mother refused to speak of him. In fact, the only reason that he himself knew who his father was, was because of gossiping seamstresses. He had been wooden sword fighting in the street and one of them had stopped him with a curious stare.  
  
"Aye sister. He is the son of Achilles. I knew it was him when I saw him." She'd said returning to her table of garments.  
  
When he'd returned home, he asked his mother about this Achilles. But proved to be no help. She merely gasped at the mention of his name and her face crumpled into a pained expression. She clutched her heart and wiped the tears from her eyes before begging him to never mention that name again.  
  
Now, following the King of Ithaca, Achayus felt a stab of guilt. This man, Achilles, must have been someone great to his mother for her to be in such pain at the mere mention of his name.  
  
"How did you know my father?" Achayus asked stopping short. Odysseus turned.  
  
"I fought many a war with the great Achilles. He was a gifted swordsman and known throughout Greece as the best fighter in the world. Sit boy and we will talk."  
  
And so they sat outside the market, on carved log bench. Achayus asked and Odysseus felt it his place to answer.  
  
()()()()()()()()()()()()  
  
Briseis sighed in exasperation. Her search had finally led her to the beach. It was beginning to show dusk and she still had not located her son.  
  
"Achayus Titus of Phenelaos! Where in the gods names are you?" she called out. Giving up, she trudged down the beach thinking of all the places she searched and where her son might have gone. The sand slid between her toes as she approached the former temple of Apollo. As she rounded the stairs, she was startled to be greeted with the shape of her son.  
  
He sat on the steps hunched over. She stepped towards him to comfort him, but he drew away sharply. He looked up at her and she saw his blue eyes were rimmed with red.  
  
"Achayus," she began.  
  
"Why did you not tell me?" he asked, his eyes held a critical glare. "How could you NOT tell me?" he added angrily. "I am your son! I deserve to know who my father was! It wasn't your right to keep it from me! For Zeus sake! I am nearly a man!" he rambled.  
  
Briseis looked as if she'd been slapped.  
  
"Who told you?" she said quietly.  
  
"A friend of fathers, a good man named Odysseus. He told me of the Trojan War, of Paris and Hector and Helen. He told how my father loved you. How can love be a just enough cause to keep the truth from me?" he stood up and wrung his eyes like a child. "How mother?"  
  
Briseis felt tears in her eyes and reached out to her son.  
  
"Did Odysseus tell you about how your mother was banished for having you? Did he tell you of how your mothers' family refused to acknowledge her only child? How her love was forbidden, while her cousin's love caused a war? Did he tell you how your father died at the hands of someone your mother loved very much? I don't think so." She spat.  
  
Achayus looked into his mothers teary eyes and felt instantly guilty. His mother had a way of doing that, the way her eyes just filled with water, it looked like if she were to blink, she'd fill the ocean. He looked down.  
  
"No." he said quietly.  
  
"I thought as much." Briseis stepped towards her son and took his hands into hers. "Come Achayus, I will fill in the blanks that our good friend Odysseus has left empty." 


	3. The Whole Truth

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews you guys! Thanks to Siniver for helping me with info and such on Troy. I AM trying to get through "The Iliad" so you know. ( Also, it's been a week since I saw the movie, so I'm paraphrasing here.  
  
Chapter Two: The Whole Truth  
  
Briseis sighed as she sat on her bed behind a shear curtain. She had told her son to wash up for supper and they would talk then. Now, she wondered. How am I going to do this? Moaning in frustration she covered her face with her hands. Oh Hermes give me the words to tell my son all he needs to know, she silently prayed.  
  
She slipped out of her daily wear and traded the pale coloured toga for a dark dress that fell to the floor and covered her well worn sandals. She removed her gold colored wrist coverings and washed the kohl from her eyes.  
  
Over the years, she had tried to be inconspicuous about it, she had collected some of the things that hadn't been broken or stolen during the war from the palace. Things like the wrist coverings she wore, some of her old robes, pottery and such. But of all the things she had recovered, the most precious was a mirror. Gold gilded and plated with turquoise it once belong to the great King Priam. Whenever Briseis looked into it, she was sure that she could see Priam faintly outlined.  
  
Now, as she gazed into the reflective surface, she saw her son behind her standing at the washtub with a emerald green waist robe with gold thread woven in the shape of horses running along the midriff band. It was her favourite of all his things. The dark cloth made his tanned skin glow with an ethereal light. Dear Gods how he looked like his father. The cold steely blue eyes, wide shoulders and upper body, long slender legs and the same square jaw and cheekbones. Even the nose was identical. The only thing she could say she contributed to the genetics of her son was the hair. His was dark like her own used to be, before it began graying with age. It would have the same long curls that her own carried, except every few weeks he would take care and with a knife, shear it just under his chin. She shook her head as the thought of Achilles hair, soft on her face, long enough to hold in her palms, filled her head.  
  
Sighing, she closed her eyes, brushed back her hair and stood up from her low bed. Pushing back the curtain, she walked towards the center of their circular home. The former sacrificial fire pit now glowed with a soft flame as she used two pieces of stone to start a spark.  
  
"Son," she said softly. Achayus turned from the washtub holding a small towel that, when compared to his rather muscular chest, looked rather like a face cloth. She tapped the seat next to her and smiled.  
  
Achayus nodded and before coming towards his mother, grabbed up the green matching tunic that was paired with his waist robe. He slid it over his head and pulled downwards to help it fit. The shirt too was sewn with golden thread in the shape of a giant horse head. It came down just above his stomach and covered the tops of his shoulders. Once he was comfortable, he sat down on the chair and faced his mother.  
  
"I have thought of a way to start this, but now it just seems so... improper." She said her brows furrowed and her mouth screwed up into a small pout. "Do you remember the tales of Troy? The old women still talk of the great city that our marketplace once was. Have you heard the stories?"  
  
Achayus nodded in response.  
  
"Yes, Troy was once a great and majestic place with golden buildings, the king was loved by all as were his sons Hector and Paris. The Trojan War began because the youngest son Paris fell in love with the Queen of Sparta. But what does this have to do with my father and you?" he questioned confusedly.  
  
Briseis took another deep breath.  
  
"I am a Princess of Troy Achayus. I spent most of my life in the palace. I was cousin to Hector and Paris, and niece to King Priam." The mention of her family brought mixed emotions. "When I was 12, I began training as a priestess apprentice in the Temple of Apollo. I was sure the gods had called me. Silly now that I think about it." She looked at her son. The original confusion seemed to only greaten.  
  
"You? A Priestess of Troy? But, I heard that the remaining Trojans escaped to a small island to live out their days. If you were one of their Priestesses, would you not be with them and not with me here on the beaches of Phenelaos?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, there is much to explain, so please be patient. I supposed I should begin with how I met your father." She added patting her child's arm softly.  
  
"When the war began. I was just a few years older than yourself. I was taken hostage from my home in the Temple by some of the soldiers of Sparta. I was blindfolded and bound and dragged kicking to a dark tent. One of the men leaned down and whispered in my ear that I would be a wonderful holy sacrifice to their leader. I struggled and struggled, but to no avail I was hostage. They tied me to a pole in the center of this hut like structure and removed my blindfold before leaving. I screamed for help but no one answered. Hours later, a man entered the tent, he was tall, bronzed from the sun, and angry looking. He looked at me with confusion as one of his men pushed the leather straps back and explained I was for him, as a present for their victory. I learned these were the men who were attacking the palace.  
  
He dismissed his soldier and removed his armor. All the while talking to me. I refused to answer. I was scared, but also so sure that my gods would be there to protect me. He warned me that I was safe in his tent and his tent alone. He unbound me and tried to clean the wounds on my face but I wouldn't let him. Sighing he stood and ignored me. A messenger came, saying that his presence was requested by King Agamemnon and so he left. Not long after, more men arrived and I was again dragged off unknowing whether I would live the night.  
  
I was held by two strong guards behind a curtain. I could hear a loud male voice talking, and I heard a familiar voice respond. The man, who tried to help me, was here. They exchanged words and I learned his name to be Achilles."  
  
"My father." Achayus said listening intently. Briseis nodded and continued.  
  
"He must be trading me for something, I thought. The guards gripped me tightly and dragged me out into the open. I realized that I was in the presence of Agamemnon himself. The man on the wooden throne was decked in jewels and fine clothes. The man from the tent stood in his armor again. The king taunted Achilles with deflowering me and to my surprise, and the kings I am sure, Achilles drew his sword and beheaded my captors. The guards drew their swords and I knew there was a bloodbath about to occur so I shouted that no more men should die for me. Agamemnon, in utter disbelief, handed me back to Achilles and ordered that we be dismissed.  
  
Over the next few days, I remained Achilles captor. Often he would return from battle and talk to me. I would not usually answer. Strangely, I found him to be a fair companion although I frantically wanted to return to my home. One night, I was desperate to escape, so when he slept, I crept to his armor and removed his knife from his belt. I crawled up onto the bed and held the blade to his neck. To my shock, he opened his eyes and gripped my arms with such force that I feared I might break beneath them.  
  
'Do it.' He goaded me. But I could not. Looking into his eyes, I don't know what I saw, but it seemed as if he was burdened by a great load. In a moment, he had rolled me and now pinned me beneath him, his arms holding me down and his legs pinning my sides.  
  
'Do I deserve a kiss before you slit my throat?' he asked. And before I knew what was happening, he kissed me."  
  
Achayus made a face. Briseis laughed and swatted him. "Yes, I know. I won't share the details. Those are for me and the gods. But may I continue with the story?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Thank you. As the war progressed, I soon became the lover to Achilles. He was gentle and kind, whereas the other soldiers were angry, raucous and mean spirited. I did not know at the time how greatly I would feel for him. King Priam eventually came to retrieve the body of my cousin Hector. Achilles had slain him in battle. When Priam learned of my staying in the Greek camp, he requested from Achilles that I return with him and that Hector be given a proper burial ritual. Achilles granted the request and I was set free. I remember leaving in Priams' chariot and looking back at a man who had shown me kindness and compassion when no one else would felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind."  
  
As she spoke, she could see his face the night she left. He was terrible at concealing his true feelings. A look of anger mixed with sorrow and laced with longing was what he wore. It pained her heart still imagining his face. Achilles, she thought, I loved you so much it hurts still.  
  
Coughing slightly, she continued with her tale.  
  
"Twelve days after Hectors funeral, the Greeks were gone and a large wooden horse was left outside our gates. Paris felt it to be unsafe, but Priam, who had always relied on omens from the Gods, ignored the opinion of his son. The horse was brought in, and in the dead of the night, Grecian soldiers began raiding our city. Paris, Helen and Hectors wife Andromache hurried to the secret exit to a boat waiting off shore for us, but I ran to the garden to pray.  
  
As I bowed down onto my knees, I felt a hand grip my hair and it was King Agamemnon. He shouted that I would die. I silently gripped his knife while he raged and when he pulled me to him, I gutted him. The body fell and I was horrified. I looked at my bloody hands and I looked up to see Achilles standing there. Emotion flooded my head and I fainted, he ran to my side to help me. He was telling me how he was going to take me away from here, take me home to Phtia, his home. He wrapped his arms around me and went to lift me, but I saw my cousin Paris standing yards away with an arrow and bow in his hand. He took aim and to the dismay of my cries, shot my love. The man who was deemed impossible to kill, was hit. I screamed as Achilles fell to his knees and Paris grabbed me to drag me away. I shrugged him off and ran to my dying lover. He cradled my face in his hands and told me of how much he loved me. I knew I had started crying too. I'll never forget the last words he said to me.  
  
'You showed me peace in the midst of war.'  
  
We embraced a final time before Paris wrenched me away for good. I screamed and I cried all the way out of Troy."  
  
Briseis lifted a hand to her cheek. It was wet with falling tears. She looked at her son and saw that he too was crying. Wiping the salty mess from her own face, she spoke again, her throat thick with tears.  
  
"I loved him very much Achayus. It pained me great, as it does still, to talk of him. I am so sorry for keeping this from you. I know now that it would have been better for you to know. I did escape Troy, but I was exiled by my own blood when they learned of you. A child of the enemy in the womb of a Trojan Princess? How absurd. It hurt Paris most of all. He refused to acknowledge you as a child of Troy. I was so angry and upset. The look in Paris' eye showed a hatred for what I was carrying so deep that I feared if I were to look to long, I would perish. That is how I ended up here, that is how you and I came to be and that is why I refused to talk about my past. It hurt too much. For years I was torn between my duty as a cousin of Paris and my duty as a faithful lover.  
  
When you were born, I knew you would be just like your father. I could see it in your eyes. There was a time my son, when I hated to look at you because you reminded me of what I gave up, what I had lost and who I was without."  
  
She looked at her soon. His distinct facial features were harsh lines as a look for frustration covered his visage.  
  
"They exiled you? Why? Because you chose to love a man who treated you with kindness and that man turned out to be forbidden? For Zeus sake! Paris himself indulged in forbidden love, that was what the Trojan War was all about! How can he deny you the same rights? He chose to love, you chose to love. It is all the same. It wasn't right!"  
  
Briseis looked down at her necklace and began to finger the amulets at her neck. She noticed her son staring intently at it. Smiling she removed it from around her throat.  
  
"This was your father you know. He gave it to me." She didn't mention that it was during a divine god granted meeting that she'd received the jewels from Achilles on his way to meet to boatman. "He would want you to have It." She said finally pressing the gem into her sons palm. "It is all I have to remind me of him, or at least I thought so for a long while. Now I now I have you."  
  
Achayus stared the necklace in his hands. He trembled as he raised his hands and let the heavy amulets drop down and let the leather rest where it fell.  
  
"Mother I-"  
  
But Briseis shushed him.  
  
"No Achayus, I want you to have it. All I ask is that you forgive me for not telling you sooner. Do you understand how hard it was for me?"  
  
"Yes mother. It angers me that because you chose to love that you were cast away. You are not a piece of garbage that someone can just throw away! You are the most loving, caring, wonderful person I've ever known, I'm not just saying that because you're my mother, it's true. I vow right here and now. The gods as my witness, I will have revenge. The Trojans who cast you away will pay. I will not allow it." Achayus said angrily.  
  
Briseis stood up.  
  
"You'll do no such thing Achayus Titus! You do not fear the gods as I do, this I know, but you do not want to anger them. It has been 18 years my son. I have learned to live with the shame I have been given. That does not stop me from loving Achilles still in death. Or loving you for that matter. Please my son, do not go opening a jar of bees to avenge me. I am happy. I have you." She reached out to embrace the boy. He stood rigid.  
  
"I cannot let them do this to you!" he protested.  
  
"It has been done already son." She said quietly. "There is nothing for you too do. Please, do not make an old woman grieve."  
  
Achayus looked at his mother. She stood now, a small proud woman with dark graying hair and fierce eyes. He could imagine her in her youthful days, dark eyed and dark skinned with shimmering dark hair and wondered how anyone could cast her out. He would not allow that injustice to continue, but he wouldn't inform his mother. It would break her heart, literally. Sighing he lay his hands to his face.  
  
"I do not have to like it, but I respect your choice mother. I will remain here in Phenelaos." He surrendered.  
  
Briseis smiled contentedly and drew her son into a hard clinch.  
  
"Thank you. Now, what do you feel like for supper." 


	4. Broken Promises

A/N: Wow, I never thought this story was going to be so popular! This is a record number of reviews for me. Thank you so much for all your support people! I get all giggly and bouncy reading your reviews! Also, shameless plugging check out Siniver and her story "Ellen". Its awesome possum.  
  
naurarwen-fangorn: Yes, that would put Briseis at around 40, Paris around 43 etc.  
  
Chapter Three: Breaking Promises  
  
The next morning, Odysseus was bright eyed as he again searched the market for useful things. They were to leave at high noon today and he had found that he was missing a few items. As he reached for the bundle of cloth, someone pushed past him almost upturning the table.  
  
He turned to confront the man, but was startled to see Achayus kneeling on the ground picking up some of the things that had slipped from the surface.  
  
"Achayus, what brings you so early into the market?"  
  
The boy began stammering and looked away from the him.  
  
"Well, I, my mother needed.." he trailed off. Suddenly, the boys face lit up. "Do you know where I can find a small boat? Just something I can use to fish offshore and possibly sail?"  
  
Odysseus scratched his chin and stared off absentmindedly as he thought of a place to find a boat. Then he remembered the docks.  
  
"Down by the docks boy. For a few gold coins you can procure a vessel for a day or so I should think. Why the sudden interest with fishing? I do recall that this afternoon is a very important sword challenge. I should think that one so skilled as yourself would want to attend?" he questioned the boy suspiciously.  
  
Achayus shook his head.  
  
"I have thought about what you told me yesterday, and my mother explained some things to me last night as well. You were right, perhaps she protests my competing because she fears losing me as well. So I have made a decision. I shall compete no more."  
  
But Odysseus was not so assured. But before he could ask another question, the boy rambled about how he needed to purchase some bread for breakfast and how he must hurry and dashed off. Odysseus took notice that it was in direction of the docks.  
  
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Water, it was all around her. Plugging her ears, thrumming in her head and washing over her body. She could hear the creak of a sail and the splash of an oar in the water. From under this water she could see a tall figure with long hair stepping into the sailboat. This figure looked like Achilles. To her, this was a lovely dream, until she awoke.  
  
Gasping for air, Briseis felt a heavy stone in the pit of her gut. She sat up and instinctively looked for her son. He was nowhere to be found. His bed was made and the morning fire already set aglow, but he was missing. Everything was as it should be, except for that her son was gone. Her eyes widened as she fearfully crept to the leather hides where Achayus kept his weapons. Closing her eyes she, with a trembling hand, pulled back the top layer. As she had guessed, the sword and his knives had vanished.  
  
Swooning, she leaned against a wall. Putting a hand to her brow, she closed her eyes and felt her chest swell with a mixture of emotions, sorrow, betrayal and most of all hurt. He had promised. He had sworn to her that he would remain in Phenelaos. A thick tear rolled down her face as a thought crossed her mind.  
  
It was still light, perhaps if she hurried, she might be able to find him. Perhaps he hadn't gone. Although he tried to pretend that the swordsman competitions were boring to him, Briseis knew that he lived for the fight. As his father before him had. Maybe, he'd gone down to the market to practice for the afternoon duels. Yes, maybe that was it.  
  
Sliding out of her bed, she tied her sandals to her feet and changed out of her dress and into a crème coloured waist robe with red thread woven into desert roses at the ankle and a red tinged tunic with short sleeves that hung just trailed over her waist band.  
  
She wandered up the beach, her heart in her throat trying to convince herself that this is was nothing, she was being silly. As the gates for the marketplace came closer, Briseis could see a lean figure running towards here.  
  
"Lady Briseis! Lady Briseis!"  
  
She stopped and squinted into the distance in hopes of identifying the person calling her name. Soon she saw that it was Philamean, Achayus' best friend and comrade.  
  
"Philamean, what is wrong? You look like you've run half the world"  
  
"I am looking for Achayus, you haven't seen him? He was registered to compete this afternoon. You know how he hates to lose." he asked. Briseis shook her head and felt her heart rise into her throat.  
  
"No Philamean, I was just about to ask you if you had seen him yourself-" a sudden thought crossed her mind.  
  
The dream, for so many months she hadn't dreamed. Why this one? Why now? Oh gods, she prayed, tell me where my son is. Assure me that he is safe in Phenelaos.  
  
She felt the dream again, the thrumming of the water, the pounding in her ears and the tall shape of a man she though to be Achilles. It suddenly dawned on her.  
  
"Achayus," she breathed. He was leaving, or he had already gone. But where could he secure a ship? She racked her brain of all the places in Phenelaos for a ship. Grabbing Philamean by the shoulders, she asked him frantically.  
  
"Where could a boy looking to go fishing get a boat!" Philamean stammered and blinked, taken aback by Briseis' unexpected movement. "Tell me boy! A lot more than a lost battle could be at stake!"  
  
"Uh...ah... the... the docks! Try the docks milady! But, why are you in such a hurry? Is Achayus in trouble?" Philamean asked as Briseis wrenched away from him and began running across the beach to the docks located on the far side of the coast.  
  
"Trouble is only the beginning of it." She called back.  
  
Her feet kicked up sand clouds as she ran. Oh please, she begged the gods. Let him be here, let him still be on solid ground! She felt the leather straps on one of her sandals snap. She cried out as she fell to the sand. Wrenching off the broken shoe, she continued on, running as if carried by angels.  
  
By the time she'd reached the dock, she doubled over out of breath. A woman her age simply could not run that far and remain standing. She looked up and in a hysterical coughing fit, saw Odysseus boarding a grandiose ship.  
  
"Odysseus! Odysseus! Please! It is me! Briseis!" she called stumbling towards him.  
  
Two large guards stepped in her way.  
  
"Milady, I'll have to ask you to remain here. The King wishes not to be bothered."  
  
"Get out of my way! This is a dire matter. My sons life is at stake! Odysseus! Odysseus!" she cried.  
  
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Odysseus had put one foot on the gangplank for his ship when he heard his name called faintly from the shore. He turned and saw a desperate dark haired woman being warded off by dock guards. He peered closer and listened harder.  
  
"Odysseus! Please! It is I, Briseis!"  
  
"Briseis?" he said quietly.  
  
"Odysseus, we must be leaving soon." One of the ship mates called from the ship.  
  
"One moment. There is a matter I must attend to that seems to be dire." Odysseus replied with a wave of his hand. He strode back down the gangplank and back onto the beach. As he came closer, he waved the guards off the woman. She came stumbling into his arms.  
  
She was sobbing dry tears.  
  
"You haven't seen Achayus have you? I fear I have sent him to his death!" Briseis said tearfully.  
  
"I saw him this morning. What is the matter dear Briseis?" he asked.  
  
"I came home last night and was greeted by my angry son. You told him quite a story," she started.  
  
"I told your son the truth." Odysseus protested.  
  
"Nevertheless, there were blanks that needed to be filled and so I filled them. Instead of enlightening my son, as I had hoped they had, he became even angrier, not with me, but with the people who exiled me. My remaining family and Trojans on the island of Haitus. Achayus vowed that he would see revenge upon Paris and Helen and Andromache and all of them! I made him promise to stay, but I woke this morning and he was gone!"  
  
"Gone? I remember him trying to find a sailboat, but I-"  
  
"Look! The black sail! Out on the water, nearly a hundred miles offshore!" Briseis hollered. She turned away from the king and spoke to the guards.  
  
"Who took the black sailed vessel on the water right now? I know it belongs to this dock as I have seen it used many times before. Tell me! Who rented it!"  
  
"We are not at liberty to sat m'am." One replied.  
  
"This is my son I am talking about. He may die! It would be my fault! Now tell me!"  
  
The guards shook their heads.  
  
Odysseus looked at the woman before him, red faced and puffy eyed from crying, her face wore sand on her check and a scratch on her chin. He took pity on her. Stepping forward he jabbed one of the guards in the chest.  
  
"I am the King of Ithaca. I say this woman is given the details of the black sailed vessel. Would you deny a mother the knowledge of her child? Can you not see she is in pain? For the gods sake, are you heartless?"  
  
The taller of the guards moved forward.  
  
"Milady, the black sailed vessel was rented by the name Achayus Titus. He gave no return date, only that he would be back soon." He said softly.  
  
Briseis looked up at the man and then turned to the sea. Crumpling into a wail, she fell to her knees from exhaustion and distress and moaned. She covered her face with her hands and her body racked with emotion as she watched her only son, sail to his death. 


	5. The Gods Willing

A/N: This chapter will be one of the last appearances of Briseis for a while, but rest assured dear faithful readers, she will return. ( Also, I did a bit of research on Poseidon and I hope that scene doesn't seem to "Clash of the Titans" for you! LOL... The Poseidon description came from an amalgamation of a bunch of depictions I saw online. Also, Thanks for the R&R's!  
  
July 18 2004: I updated this chapter and rewrote it a bit, the god scene bothered me a bit. Thanks Cara for your sweet insight. ( Also, remember Cara that back then, 40 would be considered old would it not? Life expectancy back then was maybe, possibly 50-years-old.  
  
Chapter Four: The Gods Willing  
  
The black sail flew proudly in the air as Achayus rowed the boat out into the open water. It wasn't a large vessel, just big enough to fit himself, his weapons and some supplies. A meager sailboat like this only cost him a four cold coins. He was on his way out into the sea.  
  
Then a thought crossed his mind. He felt a fool to have not thought about this before. Grumbling, he voiced his opinion.  
  
"Where exactly is Haitus?"  
  
The fear and uncertainty of his question settled in his chest. How was he to get to an isle when he had no idea where it was in the first place? Shaking his head, he pushed the betraying thoughts into the back of his mind. He sat firm in his belief that if the gods heard his vow, they would assist him on his journey.  
  
Turning his attention from his destination, he began to gaze at the now graying span above him. The sky had been bright and clear when he had left. Now, the clouds hung in a stark murky darkness. The wind was whipping wild and he had to work hard to keep the boat plowing straight. He could feel the sweat trickling down his brow as he worked and pulled the oars to himself. His head down in concentration, the only thing in his mind was his mothers face.  
  
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Deep under the blackening sea, a man stood in a regal hall decorated with all the wonders of the ocean. Tall pillars of coral and walls of limestone made the ambience of the palace of Poseidon. The man was tall and muscular. He wore a blue suit of armor that made his already graying hair pale in comparison. In his hand he carried a staff that bore three prongs. His triton, this was the king of the sea. Poseidon, brother of Zeus.  
  
On the westerly wall a heavy gilded mirror hung. It was wide and circular and the gild was pink shells from the sea floor. It glowed an ethereal green and Poseidon sighed at the summoning. He walked briskly to the mirror and stood squarely in front of it, his perfect jaw jutting out in acceptance.  
  
"Who calls on the mighty Poseidon?" he called. The mirror glowed brighter and then in the center, he saw a small, elderly woman kneeling in her home praying to the god.  
  
"Mighty Poseidon." She said. "I pray for your kindness. My son has traveled against my will into your territory. I want him returned to me safe. Let no harm come to him. I beg you great and mighty god of the sea, take care of my son." Came her tear soaked prayers.  
  
The god looked with placid interest. Who was this woman? So, out of his own curiosity, he asked.  
  
"Who are you." He said to the mirror image. The praying woman sat up startled. Her hands on her cheeks, she wiped the tears from her eyes. She gave no reply save a startled expression. Becoming annoyed, the sea god repeated his question.  
  
"Insolent mortal, when a god poses a question do you not answer? I asked you your name."  
  
The woman looked around bewildered and quickly blurted her name.  
  
"Briseis dear Poseidon. Former priestess of Troy. To what favor do I owe this appearance oh mighty sea Lord." She said bowing low.  
  
Poseidon stood dumbstruck for a moment. Briseis, she had been talk on Olympia for a long while. Finding a love for the great warrior Achilles had been deemed impossible. Achilles loved no one and no thing other than the adrenaline of battle. T'was said that not blood that flowed through his veins, but molten metal.  
  
When Hermes had come storming through the Olympian gates bellowing that Achilles had found a love, the gods and goddesses clamored to know who was the maiden that melted iron into blood. Yes, Briseis was a familiar name.  
  
"Briseis. Are you the woman of Achilles?" he asked the mirror. He watched the woman nod.  
  
"Aye I am mighty lord. Does this please you?"  
  
The god scratched his chin. It did please him - mildly. His daughter Thetis had mentioned that she was a grandmother. She had never seen the child, but she felt him in her bones. She'd heard his laughter, and felt his sorrow. She knew he was the mirror of her son.  
  
Poseidon looked through the mirror and almost felt pity for the groveling woman. He recalled faintly an argument that all of Olympia has heard only a day ago. It included a vow of some sort. Ah yes, he remembered a young man named... name... Achayus! Yes, a boy named Achayus vowing revenge upon the people who exiled his mother. He wondered -  
  
"Lady Briseis, what is the name of your son?"  
  
The woman sat up and straightened her gossamer toga.  
  
"Achayus Titus." She replied. The god nodded, knowing fully that she could not see the gesture. Licking his lips, he posed another question to the bleeding heart of the former priestess.  
  
"Why should I not fulfill a vow to the gods. I remember your sons cry. He vowed revenge."  
  
The woman nodded, a fresh set of tears welling in her eyes.  
  
"Aye, but he made a promise to me that he would remain in Phenelaos and ne'er think of seeking wrath upon my former family. All I want is my son returned home."  
  
Poseidon thought to himself. In Olympia, a vow to a god is sacred, but a vow to blood takes precedence. Could it be possible to both punish the boy for his insolence and give him his vengeance? He thought for a moment and concluded.  
  
"I will tell you what I will do Briseis, former Priestess of Troy." Poseidon told the maiden. "I will punish your son for breaking his promise, but rest assured that no harm will come to him. We gods, as cruel as you mortals think, have hearts as well. I know your story well dear Briseis and I weep for you, but your son swore an oath to Olympia that he would see your family dead. While I cannot give him the weapons he needs, I can provide his way. It is my duty to fulfill his quest. Whereas I know the pain of losing a child –"Poseidon stopped for a moment and hid daughters youthful expression flashed for a moment before his eyes. "I must also give him his revenge. He vowed and so it must be so. I cannot promise no harm once he reaches his destination, but be sure that on my sea he will be safe."  
  
Briseis looked up.  
  
"But-" she began.  
  
"Is my generosity not favorable to you woman? Have you another way? Perhaps you'll suppurate your son home. " the king of the sea said, his anger flaring.  
  
"No great lord. I did not intend any offense. I apologize greatly and thank you for your kindness. You are truly merciful." She said.  
  
"Now, close all your doors and secure every opening. There will be storm today." Poseidon said calmly.  
  
"But the sky is as clear as a mirror Lord." The woman said confusedly as the mirror ceased glowing.  
  
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Briseis sat on the floor of her humble home and stared with wide eyes. She had just received message from Poseidon. All she had asked for was his mercy on her boy at sea and his safe return. Instead, the tricky god had told her he was going to punish him with a storm and send him to his revenge.  
  
Standing up, she wandered to the window of her small home. The waves crashed against the beach and the winds were picking up. Sighing, she pulled the pieces of sail she'd fashioned into curtains and secured at the bottom of the window. Doing this for every window and door in her home, she finally kneeled at her altar on the westerly wall. To her left a familiar piece of cloth lay in a pile. Reaching out, she pulled it close to her.  
  
Holding up the cloth, she found she held a tunic she'd made for her son. It was deep maroon in color. She clutched it to her breast and pictured her sons handsome face. His bright blue eyes and dark hair. His lean, lithe build so similar to his fathers. His father – the though caught her off guard. Quietly, she stared into the dark abyss of night  
  
"Oh Achilles," she whispered. "Watch over him from your place across the River Styx."  
  
A/N: Sorry its short. LOL... The next one will be longer I hope. 


	6. The Isle That Was Lost Has Now Been Foun...

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update. I've been on a writers block. I actually got the bug to write again after editing the previous chapter. So, without further adieu, I give you CHAPTER FIVE! (evil laugh)  
  
NOTE: The island of Haitus is the home of the Trojans, and so I created a village named Priat for the Trojans to reside in. It is pronounced "Pree- At"  
  
Chapter Five: The Isle that was Lost, has now been Found.  
  
The winds wailed as Achayus struggled to keep his tiny vessel afloat in the raging storm. He was soaked to the bone, balancing the wooden sides as wave after wave shot through the boat. His hands worked furiously to unravel the knot that held the sails outstretched. Rain pellets threatened to tear the fabric to shreds.  
  
After many unsuccessful attempts, the boy finally managed to wrench the sails free. The black sky was unrelenting and Achayus swore that as the swell of the wave that at last overturned his craft, he saw the face of Poseidon in the water. A menacing, yet understanding glare that sent chills down his spine. It would be the last thing he was to see for some time. The dark tsunami engulfed the meager ship in an instant.  
  
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It was hot. Too hot for work like this, the young man thought. But his mother needed the kindling so she could start the fire for the banquet. It was his Aunts birthday and his Uncle wanted it to be most extravagant. His uncle was with the other older men searching for more wild boars too feast upon. Sweat beaded the brow of Astyanax as he lugged the remnants of the driftwood up from the quiet shore. The white sand sliding over his bare feet.  
  
"That was quite a storm last night," His mother Andromache commented as he piled the wood on top on one another.  
  
"Yes, one might have thought someone angered Poseidon." He replied gruffly returning to collect a few more pieces.  
  
"Astyanax, I remember seeing more wood a few miles down shore on my walk this morning. Go and collect that as well my son." She called after him loftily examining his hands.  
  
"Yes mother." He called back with a wave. His mother had forever been the most aloof woman he'd ever had the chance to know. Not even his Aunt Helen, the heralded beauty of Troy, seemed that detached. He understood that his father had died fighting in the Trojan War. Slain by a man named Achilles. The elders told stories of his victorious father to the little children of their village. They particularly liked the one where his father perished at the hands of the Spartan. Biting his tongue in an effort to muffle a stream of curses, he looked up to search for this wood his mother claimed to see.  
  
To his surprise, it was not wood he saw, but a young man. The waves pulling him back out to sea, Astyanax ran towards the body. Was he alive? Who was this mysterious stranger? The boy was clad in naught but a tattered sail. Although he seemed unconscious, there wasn't a mark on him. If he was a sailor, and if his ship had been destroyed in the storm, would he not be covered in bruises? His wondering was interrupted by the boys coughing and spluttering.  
  
Astyanax looked long and hard at the young man at his feet. Shoulder length hair was soaked and slowly becoming entangled with sand. He was not a scanty little thing either. His shoulders were broad and he looked like he should be competing in the arena, not sailing a small ship. The boy sat up and clamped his hand onto Astyanaxs' calf.  
  
"Where am I?" he asked, his rescuer noticed that the boys eyes were a vivid blue.  
  
Astyanax swallowed and calmly replied,  
  
"You are lying on a beach on the island known to us as Haitus."  
  
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Achayus looked up at the man before him. Tall, but lean, his rescuer seemed to tower over him. Achayus went to stand and realized that the storm had stripped him of his clothes. Nothing but his threadbare sail covered him.  
  
"Haitus?" he repeated. The man nodded. This was it! The island he had been searching for. Clasping for the necklace his mother had given him, and his weapons at his waist he was startled to find them missing.  
  
"My things! My mothers necklace... its, they're gone!" He felt his eyes water as he thought of his mother. A part of his heart felt guilty for lying to her, but he needed to do this. It was all for her. He again looked at the man who had now crouched to look Achayus in the eye.  
  
"Who are you?" the man asked. Contemplating his answer, he replied slowly.  
  
"Achayus. And you?"  
  
The man nodded.  
  
"I apologize, it was rude of me. My name is Astyanax. Son of Hector and Andromache. Heir to the Trojan Throne. Might I be of some help to you?"  
  
Achayus nodded and gathered the sails around his waist. He knotted the cloth as firmly as he could and stood. Hector, the name was familiar.  
  
"Yes, I'm quite parched. The ocean salt did nothing but drain me. I'm as dry as this here sand." The boy said meekly.  
  
Astyanax blinked and nodded.  
  
"Oh yes. I'm sure you must. Here, come with me. I'll take you to our village. I'm sure my mother and uncle will be pleased to meet you - what did you say your name was?" The older man asked.  
  
"Achayus" the young man supplied.  
  
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"Welcome to my village Achayus. This is Priat." Astyanax said proudly with his arm around the boy.  
  
The small village of Priat was quite active. White smoke billowed from the tops of the huts that had been built on the beach, the forest and brush had been cleared back a good hundred or so yards and more houses had been built using the leftovers. Children ran across the sand and dove into the clear blue of the ocean.  
  
Achayus looked in wonder. This was all that remained of the Trojans? The majestic peoples of Troy had been reduced to hut dwellers on the coast of a distant isle? Surely the gods were joking.  
  
"Mother!" Astyanax called out. Achayus squinted to see the woman in question.  
  
She was elegant and tall. A thin woman, her hair was dark and lustrous. Age treated her well, the only way you may have been able to tell her age was the beginnings of gray hairs on her temples. The white flecks were hidden under a golden band that held her hair off her face.  
  
"Astyanax! Son, where is the wood I asked to be collected? Your uncle Paris will not be pleased if this banquet for your Aunt does not go smoothly because you forgot to collect the wood!" The woman barked.  
  
Astyanax looked back at Achayus and winced. Achayus nodded knowingly... mothers.  
  
"Actually mother, I was collecting the wood as you asked when I came across a marooned sailor." The man said waving his hand towards Achayus. The woman dropped her haughty gaze and leveled her eyes with the scruffy and sopping being in front of her.  
  
"Your name boy." She said.  
  
Achayus stared deep into the dark eyes of Astyanaxs' mother and bowed low.  
  
"Achayus Titus -" he paused struggling with the proper title of the woman. She sighed.  
  
"My name boy, is Andromache. I am the widow of Hector the Great. You may address me as so."  
  
"Ah, yes. Achayus Titus, Andromache Widow of Hector the Great."  
  
"Astyanax, have you no manners? This boy looks like Hades spit him out. Get him some water, and some clothes. He looks about your size. Come boy, sit here." Andromache motioned to a fraying rug a few feet away from her.  
  
Achayus graciously stepped forward and kneeled on the blanket before the regal looking woman. She held her head high as she leaned forward from her chair to inspect him. Stormy eyes looked out from a fair face and he felt as if she were stripping him to the bone.  
  
"Where did you set sail from boy?" she asked as she continued her examination.  
  
He needed to think fast. Of course if he said Phenelaos, they might suspect him relative of their departed cousin – his mother. Taking a deep breath he tried to think of someplace safe to say.  
  
"I'm waiting boy." Andromache said impatiently, her fingers clicking on her wooden throne.  
  
"Greece, milady. But, but I have been on the ocean for so many years, my homeland is a mystery even to me. Greece was the last place I set sail." He blurted his lie.  
  
At the mention of the betraying country, the woman stiffened.  
  
"Greece you say? Well. Isn't that lovely. Astyanax!" she turned her head to a slightly larger hut compared to the others. The man emerged quickly and rushed forward with a flask of water and a fresh change of clothes.  
  
"You called mother?" Astyanax asked expectantly.  
  
"I just wondered what was taking you so long. Give the boy the clothes and water and go back for the wood I asked for." Andromache waved her son away, her harsh words still hanging in the air.  
  
The older man flinched at her words, but left without a word.  
  
"Forgive my son." She said turning to Achayus.  
  
"My husband died many years ago while Astyanax was still a babe. He does not know the discipline that only a father can give. I have tried, my brother in law Paris has tried but my boy is simply an unruly soul. His father was the same." A flicker passed through her eyes. Achayus tried to catch it but the flash was gone as quickly as it arrived.  
  
Opening the flask, he pressed the opening of the bottle to his lips and drank. Andromache inspected the clothes that her son had left and they seemed to be to her liking.  
  
"You may dress in my house, over there." She pointed to the hut that Astyanax had just come forward from. "I know exactly where everything is and how much of everything I have." She said with forewarning. Achayus nodded respectfully.  
  
"Thank you Lady Andromache for your kindness. The gods would be pleased." He said taking the clothes from where they had been dropped and making his way over to the shelter.  
  
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Once inside, he dressed slowly. So this was Haitus? He wondered to himself. This small village named Priat was all that existed on this island? It would appear to be so. Another thought crossed his mind.  
  
"What am I going to do?" he whispered.  
  
He had formulated no plan of attack, the only thought in his mind had been to find Haitus, kill Paris and come home to his mother. It was already proving to harder than he had expected. He needed a battle plan. Pulling on the shirt, he tried to think of ways he could bluff his way through until he had some kind of idea of what he was going to do.  
  
A/N: If you're wondering why Andromache is so cold, I've made her character very detached. She loved Hector very much so when he died, she tried to cope with it. What is the easiest form of coping? Anger, aloofness, haughtiness, detachment etc. I just wanted to let ya'll in on it so that you weren't all "OMG! You've made Andromache so out of character." Okay? Okay. 


	7. Happy Birthday!

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you for all your wonderful reviews! I really appreciate all the feedback. I'm working hard and hope you are all enjoying the story: )

Natalie and Chandramukhi: Yes, Andromache may recognize Achayus. But, I can't tell you anymore because it will ruin what I plan to write! LOL… NO SPOILERS! I don't want to give it away. All will be revealed in due time.

Donna-Lyn: That is a perfect example! Patroclus, with dark hair. LOL… You just summed Achayus up in one word.

Maxa: She SHOULD have been more motherly, yes. But I sort of based Andromaches personality on my friends mother Linda. Linda lost her husband in a drunk driving accident when my friend was a baby. This woman has been bitter, and angry and upset. She loves her son (my friend) very much, but she didn't cope with the hurt and the pain very well and sometimes isn't exactly mother of the year. That's the back story to Andromaches sudden chilliness.

Chapter Six: Happy Birthday!

The feast was truly grand. A mammoth of an animal sat roasting upon a crude spit over a large fire. Various other dishes lay in a circle around the flaming pit and the entire village of Priat had congregated to celebrate the day the Helen, the most beautiful woman in all the world, had come to be.

Singers played drums and sang joyous songs as the dancers leapt and twirled in a frenzy that seemed as graceful as a porpoise. Across the fire, there were three seats. Two were already occupied. A dark haired man with streaks of gray, was dressed in a majestic navy blue robe and sat on the right. A circlet of gold sat upon his brow and a large golden amulet hung heavily around his neck. This was Paris, Achayus noted, his second cousin. On the right, Andromache sat in a deep purple toga. Her face done up with kohl and ocher, she looked stunning. Her gold band was still gracing her temples. Andromache's eyes swept critically over Achayus, and he felt a slight chill from across the fire.

A small girl came flying across the village shouting, "She's ready! She's ready!" The dancers stopped dancing, the singers stopped singing. Even the squirming children, eager to join into the fun had ceased moving. Achayus followed the turning heads and was astounded.

It was Helen. The cause of the Trojan War, the lover of Paris, and the most beautiful woman in the world. Her long hair was held back by a leather lace, a diadem similar to the one Paris wore adorned the top of her forehead. A thin smile parted her lips as she looked lovingly at her husband.

"Ah! Helen, wife, my love. Welcome to the party!" Paris said, standing to his full height. He embraced her and grasped her hand in a tight lock.

"It warms my heart that you went to all the trouble of such a grand feast!" The woman said with a red blush creeping into her fair complexion.

"Helen, how could we not rejoice on the day you were born?" Paris replied with a wide smile. Helen nodded her head and allowed her husband to lead her to her seat.

Still standing, Paris leaned in and kissed the woman on the cheek. A sheepish grin was added to the flush of her visage. He turned to the people surrounding the fire and looked back over his shoulder. An impatient look crossed his face and he gave a long sigh.

"It seems," he said loudly. "That another has decided not to join in the festivities." Clearing his throat, he jerked his gaze to look at his wife. Helen looked away and Paris sighed again before turning back to the crowd and smiling.

"Everyone! Rejoice! Today is the day that Helen of Troy was born. The most beautiful of all women. So beautiful that even the gods are jealous of her beauty!"

Suddenly, Paris turned abruptly and stalked off in the direction he had looked first. A low muttering could be heard as the navy blue toga soon faded into the darkness. The dancers took this as their cue and began to sway their hips and move about to the rhythmic drumming of the singers as they belted out songs about the gods. Achayus leaned over and, with his gaze forward, whispered into Astyanaxs' ear.

"Who is it that Paris seeks?"

The elder man whispered his reply.

"His daughter. Petra. Some say she is even more beautiful then Helen herself."

"Then why is she not at the feast? Surely her mothers birthday warrants her appearance." Achayus said confusedly.

"That, my shipwrecked friend, is precisely why Paris has left the feast. Petra is…" Astyanax paused for thought. ".. headstrong. Yes that is the word that best described her character."

Achayus had no time to reply, as on the outer edge of the rejoicing circle, he saw a stern looking Paris mouthing firm words to a thin shadow. He stared ahead in an anxious attempt to get a better look at this Petra. As the father daughter pair neared the bonfire, he saw her striking eyes before anything else. Two clear pools of blue, taken in an icy stare set overtop of the set line of her lips. She did not look at all content to be included in the festivities. Her plain robe dragged over dirt and bare feet as she stalked to her seat to the left of her fathers chair. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she sat herself mere meters from the two men. A small defeated sigh escaped her lips. Achayus found himself drawn to this defiant creature.

Staring at the great fire before her, Petra slumped in her seat. Resting her chin on an open palm she regarded the dancing villagers with a bored gaze. Her mahogany curls fell over her shoulder and she moved to lace them back. It was in the action that she noticed the dark haired stranger. He was seated next to Astyanax. Her cousin seemed engaged in the ceremonies, as did the dark haired stranger. She curiously leaned to her left to listen in on their conversation.

"I'm telling you Achayus, this is the most important holiday that Paris celebrates. He is so much in love with Helen." Astyanax sighed. Petra nodded quietly in nonchalant agreement. She had to strain to hear the end of the phrase. "I only wish my father were here to make my mother smile. I've heard stories of Hector the great. The triumphant warrior for Troy. If only the slime Achilles hadn't taken him… perhaps I'd still have a father"

Achayus, as it seemed the younger stranger was named, replied softly.

"I too recognize the pain of losing a father. My mother is also stained by the title Widow."

Her eavesdropping was interrupted by her mothers hand on her arm.

"Petra my darling, why do you trouble your father so? I care not about the festivities your father plans, but for his love for me that is the root of all this. Why must you make his efforts seem so empty?" Helen whispered to into her daughters ear.

"Mother, this is nor the time or the place for this discussion. Aunt Andromache will be most troubled should this wonderful feat be interrupted by our squabbling. I promise that we shall speak tomorrow morning. I am sorry for tonight, Happy Birthday Mother." Petra replied kissing her mother on the cheek.

Helen smiled, and it seemed that the gods smiled with her. Petra understood her fathers love for her mother. What she did not understand were the letters she found underneath his traveling robes as she borrowed them for a hike inland. Who was this Briseis? Why had she never heard of this distant cousin begging for her fathers forgiveness? All questions to be answered in good time, she supposed. At the moment, the stranger was looking her way, and the drummers began the dance.


End file.
